Frank Moricz

Web Portfolio and Art Gallery

Magic made with caffeine and a keyboard.


The door wouldn't hold forever. He secured it with a nearby plank, but the scrap wasn't likely to offer much assistance. His whole body felt hot; the sun cooked the black tar beneath his feet and caused the entire rooftop to feel like an oven.

He dropped the heavy sack to the floor and unfastened the buttons of his dark jacket. Quickly, he unslung the rope that was draped across his chest - it unfurled as he cast it aside.

The sound of hollow footsteps echoed - his pursuers were growing closer with each passing second. With his jacket falling to the ground behind him, he reclaimed his earnings. The sack contained much more than money - it was full of hopes and dreams, and a chance at a new life.

His fingers tightened, and he ran to the edge. Below, the city churned away, completely unknowing. Distant horns blared from traffic jams and messenger bikes whizzed along the sidewalks at breakneck speed.

This is it , he thought. The last one. Its all over now .

Adrenaline pumped. The chemical brought back familiar feelings, and despite the situation, he couldn't help but smile.

His feet were perched on the ledge. Behind him, an impact struck the door. Though his makeshift lock cracked and fell, the door remained in place. He turned his attention back to the ground below.

He leapt forward. Over the loud howl of wind, he heard the heavy metal door slam open from above. The ground rushed toward him, and he spun to face it. With a practiced motion, he pulled the cord that sat atop his shoulder. The device on his back opened, and his nylon wings sprang into place. They caught the wind, but not quickly enough.

He closed his eyes and held on tightly to his dreams.